The Pale Shadows

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2026-08-18 17:47:05 -

The Pale Shadows

The fire roared in the great hall, consuming the oak beams with a hungry, red tongue. It was a feast of ash and memory, held in the hollow of a valley that no map had ever named. The air smelled of burnt honey and old iron. Silas sat at the head of the long table, his hands resting on the rough-hewn wood. He did not eat. He watched the flames dance. They were beautiful. They were cruel. Around...

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